


A force to be reckoned with

by Sisterofmayhem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:26:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2933333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sisterofmayhem/pseuds/Sisterofmayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mistletoe is a childish waste of time. Snape and Harry know it and now everyone else does too. So please, if you now what's good for you, don't read this childish story. I'm begging you. Seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A force to be reckoned with

Harry Potter considered Severus Snape a force to be reckoned with.

Especially when he was irritated. Or irate, as he was now.

And wholly justified too this time, Harry conceded in the privacy of his mind, as a shiver ran up his spine.

Harry watched the man as his eyes widened, first in disbelief, then in indignation.  That was the first phase, Harry knew. He’d been on the receiving end of Snape’s ire all too often after all (not that he was proud of it), so he’d learned to recognize the signs over the years. And this case, if Harry were to hazard a guess, promised to be bad. He just considered himself lucky Snape’s anger wasn’t directed at him this time. Or not entirely at him, at least.

The upper lip curling in distaste and the sudden narrowing of the eyes (the second phase) convinced everyone who still had any doubts that Snape was far from pleased. Very, very far. For a moment, a pregnant silence fell, in which Snape slowly and visibly squared his shoulders.

“Have you imps collectively lost your minds?” he calmly, but bitingly (and with deliberate emphasis on the word ‘imps’) asked the bunch of third years, who, Harry was a little impressed to notice, were snickering amongst themselves rather than quaking in their boots from fear. Kids weren’t what they used to be, Harry thought. When _he_ was still a student, he wouldn’t have dreamed to antagonize a teacher like that – especially Snape. He’d had his run-ins with Umbridge, of course, but that didn’t count. But Snape? Never.

(Or perhaps just the once. But only because Snape had a way of getting under your skin before you even noticed what was going on. That wasn’t Harry’s fault.)

One girl, a blonde Ravenclaw Harry remembered to be in his Defense class, smiled and piped up in a cheerful voice (and Harry just prayed that her sanity would still be intact after Snape was finished with her): “But Sir, isn’t this what tradition dictates?”

As expected, Snape’s eyes instantly zeroed in on her. The girl didn’t even flinch under his gaze, and Harry’s respect for her grew.

“Do I look like a man, miss Clarins, who gives a damn about tradition?”

She turned her head to look at her friends and then shrugged.

“Well, I guess not, but…”

“Tradition, Clarins,” Snape cut in quickly, “and especially _this_ one, is a childish waste of time. I can assure you that whoever is responsible for this prank…”

“Yes, so you’ve said three times already,” she answered, dismissively waving his threat away. Harry had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth again.

“I don’t think any of us is behind this,” she continued confidently, “I’m just saying, haven’t you tried almost everything by now?”

Snape narrowed his eyes as the girl began counting down on her fingers.

“We tried a vanishing spell. Obviously didn’t work. Setting it on fire didn’t make it disappear either. Nor did cursing it, or trying to make it move. So maybe you should just…”

“I will _not_ …” Snape snarled viciously and Harry saw his hands ball into tight fists as the man tripped over his words. He threw Harry a furtive glance.

“…do that,” he finished more calmly. The students just stared at him in silence.

Then another dark-haired girl shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Well, I think that’s just plain stupid,” she said haughtily, “Everyone knows about mistletoe tradition. It’s only stubborn people that get stuck under it forever. Believe me, I know.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the girl and was about to remind her to whom she was talking, when he recognized her. Parkinson’s little girl, of course. Well, like mother, like daughter.

“Miss Parkinson,” Harry began, only to be cut off by Clarins again. What was it with the third year girls today? Did someone slip something into their pumpkin juices to make them as bossy as Hermione perhaps?

“Sir, I know,” Clarins said, “Maybe we can call on Headmistress McGonagall for help. I’m sure she’ll be able to come up with something…”

“Absolutely not,” Snape said decisively, but the girl didn’t appear to have heard him at all.

“No, wait,” she shook her head thoughtfully, “She’s at the Ministry right now, isn’t she? She told us only this morning… Mmh… But professor Flitwick’s in his office! Maybe he’ll know a spell? Or… or professor Slughorn perhaps?”

“Enough!” Snape bellowed. Everyone fell silent at once. Snape had that effect on people when he was seething.

“There are already far too many people present for my taste!” Snape snarled, “If you think for one moment I will allow my colleagues to witness this embarrassing display, then you are all deluded! Out!! Every one of you!”

‘But, Sir…” the girl tried again. Harry decided to step in before any accidents occurred. Jeez, it was just like in the old days when Hermione got caught up in one of her tantrums.

“Miss Clarins,” he began, “Anna, is it?”

The girl’s gaze flitted to him and she nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong. We really appreciate your help. But I believe it is best if you all take your leave now. I am sure professor Snape and I will be able to come up with a solution for this… mistletoe problem.”

Harry pretended he didn’t hear Snape’s derisive snort.

Half of the students were already on their way to the main entrance of the Great Hall, some of them still guffawing. Anna Clarins hesitated.

“Are you sure we don’t need to get you help?” she asked.

“Miss Clarins, please just leave,” Snape said through gritted teeth, while he looked up as if praying for patience.

Harry nodded at her and just as he was sure she was about to turn around and leave, she seemed to get another idea.

“I’ll go to the library,” she said, “and if I find anything…”

“You do that, miss Clarins,” Snape grumbled, “Now get the hell out before you make me feel like a freak show attraction. Or worse: a charity case.”

After that, the girl bounced out the door in no time at all, and Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly worried about the spring in her step.

_Girls. Sometimes they were just so weird._

He sighed, plastered a reassuring smile on his face that said ‘Come on, we’ve faced worse’, and turned around to look at Snape.

 

HP/SS

 

“Remind me how we got into this situation again?” Harry asked. He didn’t want to sound as sheepish as he did, but it just came out that way. Snape had never really lost his talent to make him nervous, and apparently he wasn’t about to start now.

Harry already expected the scowl Snape threw at him, and just shrugged it off.

“Remind me to keep my distance from you from now on,” Snape muttered, “Especially when there’s _tradition_ involved.”

Harry couldn’t help it; he laughed, and a little bit of his nervousness dissipated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you roll your eyes like that,” he chuckled, “You _have_ changed after the war.”

“Potter,” Snape started.

“Professor Potter,” Harry corrected, “…Sir”. He hated it when Snape didn’t show him the respect Harry thought he’d earned by now.

Snape sighed and conceded: “Professor Potter, I don’t think I have ever given you the impression I was inclined to talk about the war. The fact that we happen to be standing under a damnable sprig of mistletoe doesn’t change that.”

“Hold your horses,” Harry replied, shaking his head with a smile, “I was only saying you’ve changed.”

“Yes,” Snape replied in a clipped voice, “So you’ve said on a number of occasions already.”

In fact, to say Snape had changed after the war wasn’t covering it at all.

It was like he’d gradually shed his alter ego – Snape, the Death Eater; Snape, the spy; and Snape, vilest teacher of Hogwarts-  like a snake sheds its skin. It hadn’t happened overnight, of course, but suddenly there was no denying a completely different person stood in his place.

When Harry had first taken McGonagall up on her offer to teach defense after the war, Snape had volunteered to be the one to guide him through his first months. Harry had initially been surprised – that wasn’t the Snape he’d always known- but eventually, as Snape showed consistency in his changed behaviour, he’d grown used to it. After the first stiff attempts, Snape appeared to be a surprisingly fluent conversationalist. They talked about lesson programs and teaching methods – Harry again was surprised to find the man actually had any, but he knew better than to mention that to him. One conversation in the corridors led to the next in the teacher’s staff room, and suddenly Snape was, perhaps unconsciously, releasing bits of information about himself and his role in the war (though, if Harry had to guess, he’d be hard-pressed to admit that he was doing it). Harry tried to fit the pieces of information into his view of the new and improved Snape, and that wasn’t always easy. The Snape who, albeit accidentally, had cursed George’s ear off, wasn’t the same Snape as the one that kneeled down to comfort a second year Slytherin who’d lost both of his parents in the Final Battle and whose roommates had been cruel to him because his mom and dad had been Death Eaters. The potions teacher who used to be prone to terrible moods wasn’t the same person as the one Harry had lengthy conversations with until two in the morning or until they’d ran out of mulled wine. He wasn’t the same person as the man who said in an unguarded moment: “You’re an amazing wizard, Harry,” and only two seconds after that: “I mean, a good guy. You’re a good guy.” The man he had always known would never have said anything like that.

Harry had laughingly waved it away, feeling a bit embarrassed, but the fact remained that Snape had changed. Expect maybe for the snarling, when he was very angry. But apparently even that didn’t have the same effect on students as it used to have on Harry and his friends when he was younger. He hardly seemed able to scare away students anymore, like miss Clarins and her classmates had just proved moments ago.

“So,” Harry took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge, “what do we do now?”

They both looked up at the deceptively innocent looking sprig of mistletoe that was floating over their heads and Snape sighed.

“Haven’t a clue,” he admitted, “I would say we wait until one of us comes up with a brilliant idea.”

Harry chuckled. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.”

A whole silent period of five seconds passed.

“Mmh… What if neither of us comes up with something?” Harry asked.

“Then I propose we wait until the magic burns itself out. Mistletoe can only be charmed for a certain period of time.”

“For how long?” Harry was curious to know.

Snape shrugged, but he looked annoyed.

“Could be hours,” he said.

Harry frowned and grumbled: “So it’s possible that we’re still stuck here when dinner starts?”

“Mh-mh,” Snape replied, absentmindedly looking around the room.

“Great,” Harry muttered, “Just when I really needed to get my Christmas shopping done for Ron and Hermione.”

Snape turned back to him with a glare.

“You’re not the only one losing precious time here, Potter…”

“ _Professor_ Potter,” Harry corrected automatically, but Snape ignored it.

“I have a potion boiling in my lab at the moment,” he continued, “My cauldron will surely be ruined by now and I’ll be up all night scrubbing the floor.”

Harry regarded the man skeptically.

“Didn’t you put a Stasis spell on it before you came to lunch?” he asked.

Snape quickly waved the question away, but Harry could see his cheeks flush embarrassedly.

“I assumed I would be able to make it back to my lab in time,” Snape explained.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“That seems rather careless, especially for you, don’t you think so?”

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Potter,” Snape muttered, but without the venom from earlier days.

Harry shrugged and decided to let it go in favor of an idea that had just popped into his head.

“Hey, can I borrow your wand for a moment?” he asked, as he held out his hand. Harry had left his in his private quarters.

Snape regarded him for a full second, then said: “No.”

Harry rolled his eyes and pleaded: “Oh, come on. I have an idea.”

Snape took a step back as Harry approached him and asked, hand covering his robe pocket: “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I can show it to you if you just gave me your wand,” he argued.

Snape shook his head and repeated: “What do you want to try, Harry?”

Harry dropped his arm in defeat, then gestured towards the mistletoe.

“I wanted to see if I could transfigure it,” he explained, “Perhaps…”

“The enchantment will simply be contained in another form,” Snape shook his head, “The spell will still be intact.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he looked back up at the sprig, contemplating it.

“Can I try?” he asked in the end.

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh and reached inside his robes for his wand. Handing it to Harry, he warned: “Be careful.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled back.

He transfigured the sprig into an apple first, then into a banana – Maybe they could eat it to solve their problem? But Harry had to admit Snape had been right: it didn’t change a thing about the enchantment. He tried to change it into air, but that didn’t work either.

“O, fuck it,” Harry shrugged and swished Snape’s wand for a fourth time. The banana turned into a purple dildo.

Snape lifted his eyebrows at Harry and the boy grinned.

“What’s that supposed to…,” Snape started to ask, but then a fifth wand flick suddenly had the dildo vibrating quite loudly over their heads.

“O, for the love of…,” Snape grumbled, snatching his wand back, “You’re such a child sometimes.”

Snape transfigured the dildo back into the sprig of mistletoe.

“Sorry,” Harry grinned, blushing slightly. He knew he needed to work on his maturity, but then again, with the war and all that, he hadn’t really experienced childhood, so he’d decided it wouldn’t hurt anyone to treat himself to a little bout of silliness once in a while.

He looked back up and bit his lip.

“Erm, Sir?”

“Yes,” Snape frowned, putting his wand back in his pocket.

“Do you know it’s… erm, purple?”

Snape lifted his head and assessed the piece of mistletoe for exactly one second.

“Purple’s a fine color,” he said dryly.

Harry chuckled.

 

HP/SS

 

 

_One hour later_

“Will you stop pacing already?” Snape frowned, “I can’t hear myself think.”

“Are you still thinking?” Harry asked with a sigh, “Because I must have racked my brain a hundred times already and I’ve come up with nothing.”

Snape regarded him for a second and the corner of his mouth twitched up.

“Don’t make me reply to that,” he said, smirking, “What are you doing?”

Harry continued to put one foot deliberately in front of the other, meanwhile holding out his left arm as if he were leaning against a solid wall.

“I’m trying to pace the perimeter to see if I can find any loopholes,” he explained, “And to check how far I can walk.”

“Any luck with the loopholes?”

Harry shook his head.

“The perimeter is pretty large, though,” Harry mused, running his hand over an invisible wall, “I think this magical field is about six square meters.  That’s weird, isn’t it? Aren’t people usually stuck right beneath the mistletoe?”

“Weird,” Snape agreed, popping the joints of his fingers and rolling his shoulders, “It is nice to be able to stretch your limbs, though. An hour is a long time.”

“It is,” Harry replied, “I’m starting to get… Wait, I think I can solve _that_ problem.”

He turned around towards the breakfast tables and wordlessly summoned his unfinished glass of water from the staff table. He greedily drank from it until it was empty and sighed: “Mmh, just what I needed.”

Snape was staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Thank you for offering me refreshments,” he remarked dryly, but Harry could see he was smiling a little.

“Sorry,” he blushed and summoned another glass of water to hand to Snape.

“That’s professor Flitwick’s glass,” Snape observed, quietly eyeing the offered glass but not making any move to accept it.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I know,” he said, “You’d already finished yours. Merlin, I didn’t know you could be so picky.”

“I’m not picky,” Snape retorted, while taking the drink, “Just stating a fact.”

He drank the water in two large gulps, then held the glass out for Harry to take back. Their fingers brushed for the briefest of moments, just a soft touch of the tips, but it was enough for Harry's stomach to give a lurch, and he jumped a little. They caught each other’s eyes, and Harry knew Snape could now plainly see the panic written all over his face. Harry tried for a disaffected air as he wandlessly vanished the glass, even though he knew it was too late. The other man had already seen. Damn.

Snape stood staring at Harry while the seconds ticked away. There was something in the man’s gaze that made Harry uncomfortable. Like he was waiting, or something. Harry’s face grew hot and he quickly averted his eyes. Desperate for something to do, he checked his watch.

“An hour and a half already, wow,” he commented. His voice was raspy, so he cleared his throat. He wished for another glass of water. Snape was still staring at him. And then, slowly, the man smirked. Harry swallowed.

“Why do I get the feeling you're enjoying being stuck with me?" he accused, annoyed about how nervous he was.

Snape didn’t answer immediately, and Harry couldn’t detect anything but faint amusement on that face anyway. His irritation spiked and suddenly he just wanted to get away. He took a deep breath and blurted out: "I'm starting to think that perhaps we should just do it. I'm tired of being emprisoned."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape’s foot twitch on the floor.

“Better not,” Snape finally said quietly.

Harry looked up and stared. 

“Why not?” he asked, defiantly, "I don’t think we’ll be able to find another solution anytime soon. And I _really_ have to get my Christmas shopping done.”

“Harry,” Snape sighed, “I know you don’t want to do this.”

Harry glared at him.

“Yeah, put the blame on me for failing to get out of here,” he retorted.

“We could wait…”

But suddenly Harry couldn’t wait.

He’d unconsciously been working himself up for almost two hours already, trying to ignore the inevitable. It was only now that he realized that it really _was_ inevitable.

“Let’s see if a peck on the cheek works,” Harry was the voice of reason, “That’s not too bad now, is it?”

Since Snape didn’t make a move, Harry approached him and kissed his cheek.

And for the love of… why did his cheek have to feel so warm and  _smooth?_ But Harry shouldn’t be thinking that right now. He really shouldn't.

He looked up, only to find the sprig of mistletoe still floating silently above their heads, mocking them.

He lowered his gaze to see Snape doing the same and they looked at each other. It was hard to look somewhere else anyway.

“Figures…,” Harry muttered, “Out of all the sprigs of mistletoe, we should get the perverted one.”

Snape’s lips quirked up in a small smile. Harry shook his head.

“You ready for this?” Harry asked on a shaky intake of breath.

For the first time, Harry saw hesitation flicker in Snape’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked and Harry was just glad he wasn’t saying ‘no’.

“I guess,” he said and tried a hesitant smile.

Again, Snape didn’t take the matter in hand, so Harry leaned forward and let his lips rest against Snape’s.

A few seconds passed, and Harry closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look at Snape right now, afraid of what he might see. Their lips didn’t move and it felt dry and awkward.

After a few more moments, Harry pulled back and carefully searched Snape’s face. Did something flicker in those eyes? Harry wasn’t sure.

What he _was_ sure of, even without checking, was that the mistletoe was still there.

“More?” he asked, trying to sound resigned but managing to sound eager instead.

_O, great, Snape smirked. That means he realized just how pathetic you are. Well, that wasn't going to get better if they continued this._

Resigning himself to his fate (the cat had to come out of the bag sooner or later), Harry put his hand on Snape’s neck and gently pulled him closer for a real kiss.

The first thing he noticed was how welcoming Snape’s mouth was. Snape accepted the kiss without so much as a flinch, his warm mouth opening immediately, the soft, pliable lips a cussion to sink into after a long day of work. 

Harry met Snape’s tongue and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. Snape had his hand clasped on Harry’s arm and was kissing him back slowly. It surprised Harry, because he hadn’t thought Snape would actually enjoy kissing him. He hadn’t even known Snape liked men that way. It was obvious now that he did. Harry felt his fear of being rejected melt away and he sighed quietly.

Snape suddenly moaned and slid his arm around Harry, pulling his body tightly against his own. Harry hadn't seen it coming and gasped in surprise at the sudden feel of stomach against stomach. He grabbed Snape's shoulders to have something to hold onto as the man's tongue slid inside again. Harry bucked as he felt sweaty hands dive under his shirt. Snape’s breath stuttered.

“ _Fuck,”_ Harry whispered harshly, “This is getting way out of hand.”

“Mh-mh,” Snape agreed and Harry felt a burst of joy explode in his chest. He rubbed himself shamelessly against Snape. Nothing mattered anymore, except that he was going to… going to…

“Professor Snape! Professor Potter!” an excited voice suddenly cried, “I think I’ve found something.”

They heard footsteps skipping into the Great Hall and the two men hastily pulled their lips free.

“O, _God_ ,” Harry groaned. He couldn’t believe his bad luck.

“Merlin, really?” Snape muttered, while turning his eyes heavenwards.

“I found this spell in a book and… Oh!” Clarins came to a brusque stop when she saw her two teachers intimately entwined.

“O, sorry,” she stuttered, “I… I hadn’t realized…”

She looked up at the mistletoe, which apparently was still there and then she smirked.

“But it seems the problem isn’t solved yet, is it?” she snickered.

Snape pulled himself free from their embrace and actually growled: “Miss Clarins, will you _please_ get to the bloody point of why you’re here?”

Clarins, not in the least perturbed by how she was being addressed, held up a book and explained: “Well, you see, I’ve found this spell…”

She looked at Snape with a question in her eyes and she seemed suddenly hesitant if she’d be allowed to continue.

“A spell, miss Clarins?” Snape sighed.

“Well, yes actually,” she continued, “It’s a spell to discover the identity of the person who charmed this particular piece of mistletoe.”

“And how will that help us?” Harry asked, not immediately cottoning on.

Miss Clarins shook her head, smiling.

“If we know who it is, we can get him here and force him to undo the spell, of course!” she explained, “I’d think that obvious!”

“You’re a little smartass, aren’t you?” Snape remarked.

But Harry had to admit the girl might be onto something. They simply couldn’t be stuck here forever, could they? Not that the kiss hadn’t been, well…overwhelmingly nice. But still, if that didn’t help to get rid of the mistletoe, perhaps they might try Miss Clarins’s approach and find out who... find out who...

Harry froze. It wasn’t until a few seconds had passed that he slowly turned around towards Snape.

“Was it you?” he whispered. Snape looked confused by the question, so Harry gestured at the mistletoe with his head.

“The enchantment,” he explained, “Did you put it on the mistletoe?”

Snape simply gazed at him.

“Did _you_?” Snape finally replied, quietly.

Harry stared. He felt a spark of electricity run down his spine and he shivered under the man’s gaze.

“But why would any of you both…?” miss Clarins asked, and then interrupted herself, “Oh. I see…”

Harry and Snape tore their gazes away from each other and they both looked at the blonde girl.

“I see,” she giggled again, “Well then, I guess my work here is done.”

She took a step back and Harry hastily said: “Wait, miss Clarins, you haven’t told me that spell yet.”

“O, I’m sure it will all work out just fine,” she snickered, “Sooner or later that mistletoe will disappear of its own accord, I’m positive.”

“Miss Clarins,” Harry warned, as the girl began to retreat.

“I’m really sorry to have interrupted you,” she apologized and then she turned around and ran.

“Anna!” Harry shouted. But she was already gone.

He sighed and warily turned towards Snape again.

The man was smirking at him now and it infuriated him no end.

“So,” Harry said.

Snape crossed his arms.

“Have you got something to tell me?” he asked Snape.

Again that maddening smirk.

“Have _you_ got something to confess to _me_?” Snape asked.

Harry got irritated for no reason. He knew he shouldn’t let Snape drive him up the wall, but the man was so good at it.

“I haven’t,” he answered in his most level voice.

“You’re sure you haven’t got anything to hide?” Snape smiled.

Harry shook his head. Snape pointed his chin forward.

“What’s that in your trousers then?” he smirked.

Harry blushed embarrassedly, but forced himself not to look down at the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Well, I apologize, “ Harry managed to sound sarcastic, “Sometimes that happens to people in the heat of the moment.”

Snape smirked and nodded. Harry’s eyes flitted down before he could stop himself. Snape didn’t seem to have the same problem as Harry did and he felt a slight twinge of disappointment at that.

“You’re not bothered by such inconveniences, are you?” he blurted out. He didn’t know what to make of Snape’s smile.

Because he was at a loss as to what to do with himself he finally looked back at the mistletoe.

“You know, you can make that disappear already,” he said, “I’m onto you, Snape.”

“Liar,” Snape replied, “I know you are behind all of this. And would you stop touching yourself?”

“I’m not…,” Harry started to retort, but he couldn’t deny he’d been adjusting himself in his pants.

Snape’s gaze turned shrewd and his eyes narrowed.

“Perhaps that’s what the mistletoe’s after,” he speculated. Harry blushed a bright crimson.

“I’m not going to toss off in front of you, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” he heatedly replied.

“That’s not what I'm suggesting,” Snape said quietly. The implication in the man’s eyes seeped through in Harry’s mind and they watched each other until Harry couldn’t bear to look anymore.

He turned away from the man and sat on the floor, if only to hide his erection. _Fuck the tosser,_ Harry thought, _he’d been teased enough today._

He could feel the man hesitate behind his back, but in the end Snape came to sit beside him.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to,” Snape chastised in a voice as sweet as cotton candy.

Harry snorted and tried to ignore the twitching in his pants.

“Do you realize you sound like a creepy old pervert?” he said nervously, “You said earlier that you were going to keep your distance from me, but perhaps it is me that should be giving you a wide berth”.

“You can lash out at me all you want, Harry, but… O, for fuck’s sake, _stop touching yourself_!”

Snape wrested Harry’s hand away from his crotch and then immediately proceeded with unzipping his pants and trying to pull them down. Harry simply sat there for a moment, trying to process what he was seeing. _Fuck._

“Are you crazy?” Harry whispered hysterically, while he desperately tried to pull Snape’s hands away, “Anyone could come in here.”

Snape reached inside his robes with one hand and pulled his wand out. He aimed for the door and it slammed shut instantly. He put warding and silencing charms on the gate and then proceeded like there had been no interruption at all. Harry continued to fight him until Snape’s hand had found a way into his pants. He jerked into silence when Snape finally grabbed him and he looked at Snape with eyes that were probably the size of saucers. _This is really happening,_ he thought frantically, but he just sat there numbly. Snape slowly pulled at his cock, his eyes never leaving Harry’s, and Harry lost it.

“Uhh,” he breathed and his eyes fell shut. His fingers, that had been pushing the man away only seconds before, were now digging into Snape’s skin.

Slowly, very slowly, the realization came about what would follow afterwards, after the undoubtedly best orgasm Harry would ever experience.

Awkwardness. Extremely painful awkwardness. Harry groaned in a mixture of despair and desire. He was a little surprised at how similar the two emotions felt. Like twin sisters.

But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Snape was driving him ever closer to the edge and he hadn’t the will to fight it anymore.

His head fell forward against Snape’s shoulder and he twisted his fingers into the soft material of Snape’s robes, buried his face in the folds.

A moment later he clutched the man’s shoulders tightly and the scream that ripped out of him died against Snape’s chest.

Snape had put his arm around Harry’s shoulder and Harry vaguely noticed that the man was rubbing his back in gentle motions. He put his face in his hands, already feeling the awkwardness coming up.

“Look at me, Harry,” Snape said after a while. His voice was surprisingly gentle.

Harry lifted his face, afraid of what Snape would see in it.

But the man only smiled at him and caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. He slowly leaned in to kiss him again and Harry forgot about the world, and the smear of seed Snape's hand had left on his face.

When they broke apart again, Harry was smiling too, although somewhat befuddled.

Snape smirked at him and pulled out his wand. With one easy flick the sprig of mistletoe vanished.

Harry stared at the spot of air the sprig had just occupied, and then slowly lowered his eyes to look at Snape.

“You’ve been dancing around me for months now Harry,” Snape explained airily, “You wouldn’t have plucked up the courage.”

Harry smiled softly, if a bit baffled, and let his forehead fall against Snape’s shoulder again.

“You didn’t give me any indication that you were interested,” he complained to the shoulder.

Snape chuckled hoarsely and he resumed rubbing Harry’s back.

“True enough,” the man conceded, “I did hide my feelings well. I guess I’ve just been a spy for too long.”

Harry grunted noncommittally.

“Shall I help you up?” Snape offered. Harry nodded. He felt his muscles strain from the orgasm he’d experienced and his knees felt a bit wobbly.

“You all right?” Snape asked. Harry just chuckled and shook his head.

“Let’s freshen you up,” Snape decided, “Care for a shower in my room?”

Harry regarded Snape for a moment and he couldn’t entirely keep the disbelief out of his voice when he said: “You _have_ changed.”

Snape looked back at him, the left corner of his lip quirking up. He managed to sound chastising when he replied: “You’ve changed too, Harry.”

Harry nodded and whispered: “I guess so”.

“So, do you want to see where this goes?” Snape asked and Harry could read the hesitation in his face.

Harry chuckled again.

“Fuck, people will not like this,” Harry pointed out, “The Saviour and an ex-Death Eater?”

Snape took Harry’s hand in his.

“Please don’t shoot this down before it’s even started, Harry,” he said, “I know it will take some getting used to.”

“You’re sure?” Harry pressed.

“Very much so,” Snape answered simply.

Harry took a deep breath and squeezed Snape’s hand for a moment.

“All right,” Harry said, “What’s this about a shower you were talking about? Is there room for two?”

“Definitely,” Snape confirmed, then slightly tilted his head and added as an afterthought: "I have a kingsize bed, too.”

Harry laughed out loud. “Okay, now you really sounded like an old pervert,” he mocked.

Snape pulled up an eyebrow, and smirked slowly.

“You won’t be saying that…” Snape started to say, but Harry quickly cut him off, as he thought he knew what the man was about to say: “When you’re buried balls deep into my arse? I know.”

Snape stared at Harry with his mouth hanging slightly open and Harry laughed again.

“O, don’t look so surprised,” he grinned, “You know I’ve never been able to keep my mouth shut when it was necessary. And I've just come, I don't know what I'm saying anyway. Now, weren’t you going to show me that shower?”

Snape closed his mouth and slowly shook his head. He leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear.

“Boy, are you in for a _very_ hardpounding _,"_ he promised and Harry shivered.

"Wouldn't want it any other way, professor Snape," Harry replied brazenly, summoning his best poker face, "I was actually kind of hope... Ouch! Why'd you pinch my nipple for?!"

"Get up," Snape ordered darkly, "before I make you."

"Make me what?" Harry teased again, as he quickly did as he was told, "Scrub cauldrons?"

Snape stood in thought for a moment, then smiled, then laughed. "If you're into such a thing..." he shrugged.

Harry let his hand slide over the collar of Snape's teaching robes, while new images were born in his head. He smiled fondly at Snape and decided: "Another time. First I think I need that shower."

And before either of them could say anything more, Snape grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him to his room…

 

THE END

 


End file.
